


Love's an emotion

by BrokePerception



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:23:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokePerception/pseuds/BrokePerception
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>."He doesn't really feel any other emotion but rage, caused by his ever unsurpassable egoism." – CONTINUED BY Amerdrah (on fanfiction.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione could hear the door to her cell open, and a rather dim light faintly illuminated the doorway. She was used to this, for Wormtail came by at least three times a day to give her that what not even a pig would consider food, making it very obvious that she wasn't any better than a random dog to his Master, yet that Voldemort must have more for her in store. Otherwise he would have let her collapse under the lack of food.

She already must have lost at least some weight since her captivity, taking in consideration how loosely her attires hung about her figure now. She was still wearing the same as when she had been taken by the two Death Eaters at the beginning of July, when she had just _Obliviated_ both her mother, and father. At least they were safe now, although it didn't change the fact she felt unbelievably guilty, and foolish for having been caught that easily, and soon. The task that Dumbledore had left them, to deal with the Horcruxes Voldemort had made, and hid, rested only on the shoulder of Harry, and Ron right now, and she slowly but surely was going more insane every day not knowing anything about what was happening on the far other side of the cell in which she had already been isolated for three months now. Wormtail never said anything. Voldemort himself would share something occasionally, but she never could know if it was a lie or not.

She really tried to limit her get-togethers with him either way – not that she actually had anything to say about it. Her hand intuitively reached for her arm, in which Bellatrix had neatly carved the word 'Mudblood' the very first time Hermione had been taken upstairs. From then, Voldemort himself had taken over. He had forcefully taken that what wasn't his. She shuddered, as she very vividly recalled how she had continued bleeding for days. He hadn't at all been careful in his pursuit to steal her innocence, and as could be anticipated from a beast like him, had done everything possible to make her first sexual experience a true nightmare. Mission succeeded.

Every time she could no longer fight against the exhaustion of keeping herself continually awake, she would see the whole scene again, and not only see the rape happen, but even relive it in her head. The horrible, graphic facts would overwhelm her all over again… She momentarily shuddered again recalling all the times that Voldemort himself had taken abuse of her body, every time she had gotten dragged upstairs by Wormtail. Every time the light of the Death Eater's wand had shone through the cell in search for her, and she already had known what was coming.

She no longer fought after three months. Maybe that was why as of late Voldemort appeared to like throwing powerful Cruciatus Curses at her, enjoying the woman's writhing in pain underneath him, as he mercilessly pounded deep into her sex, not caring about the hurt which he was causing her with his selfish actions.

"You bastard!" a very familiar voice with Scottish cadence shouted, and Hermione could see the figure of the tall Gryffindor Head of House thrown down the stairs to her cell. Wormtail already had shut the door to the rest of the Manor with magic once she had reached the bottom of the stairs, having landed on hard cement, of which the floor consisted. Silence overtook the very little cell, and Hermione tried to find the courage to speak.

"P-Professor?" she questioned, shocked herself at how her voice had sounded. "Are you all right?" It had possibly never sounded so weak, and broken.

Minerva noticed, too. She had thought she was entirely alone in the cell until then. It actually took her a full minute to realize to whom the defeated voice could belong. "Miss Granger?" she eventually released not quite believing it as she even said it. She really cursed her lack of wand now. Like Hermione's, her wand had been taken away immediately after having gotten captured by a pair of Voldemort's dear Death Eaters. She very much would have liked to see…

Hermione nodded, then realized that her former Professor couldn't see her. "Yes," she whispered, and quietly moved from her curled up fetal position onto her knees, beginning to crawl in the direction of where her dear Prodessor must have landed. She lightly winced, feeling her hip pull. After having sat there curled up for months in the very same position, only occasionally moving when Wormtail had been ordered to get her for his Master's contentedness, or to take a bite of food when her tummy felt so constricted she thought she would die from hunger if she didn't actually eat. She only ate when she had no other choice, to keep herself from collapsing.

"Miss Granger?" she spoke, looking around in the dimness that burned her eyes, not able to see. The much younger woman had sounded weak, and anything but the intelligent Gryffindor the she once had taught. She must have been captured for months. She didn't wish to know what she must have had to endure already. "Is there anyone else here but you?" she asked.

"No," Hermione whispered, finally feeling the warmth of the other woman near.

Minerva was surprised to find the younger woman's voice so close. She could feel the cold finger tips of her charge graze her cheek, shakily searching for her. She quietly held the younger witch's hand within her larger one, and pulled the girl in her embrace. Nearly immediate shaking told Minerva she must have begun crying. "Shh…" Minerva soothed carefully, rubbing her painful lower back with one hand, while raking her long feminine fingers through the bushy brown hair, not caring about the fact that it hadn't been washed in months. "I'm here," she whispered, "You're not alone anymore."

Hermione didn't reply. In one way or another the older Gryfindor there close with her made her feel safer. In another, it actually scared her that this unbelievably powerful witch had been captured as well, for it showed just how strong the enemy was…


	2. Chapter 2

Take me.'

It mercilessly kept running through Hermione's mind. When Wormtail had come down, and his wand had enlightened the dimness of the cell, enabling himself to see while in search for her, she had immediately known what was to come next. It already had happened too often not to…

She hadn't really fought anymore as Wormtail emotionlessly took hold of her arm, and dragged her lithe body up for another rendezvous with his Master. Minerva had made the connection fairly soon, and had gotten in between saying just that, 'Take me.', and then, 'I'm sure enough that your Master would be happy to deal with me instead.'

Hermione had really no idea about time. She couldn't possibly guess how long Minerva must have been gone already, but it at least appeared as if the former Head of Gryffindor House had been right about Voldemort's reaction. She had already been gone for a while. If Voldemort wasn't really pleased with her instead of Hermione, he would have commanded Wormtail to come get her instead already. Hermione now only felt particularly guilty. She knew what Voldemort could do. She had already gotten raped innumerable times by him. She knew what it all was like. Yet when Hermione's former Transfiguration Professor had come in between, a strange feel of relief had washed over her. Relief, and gratefulness for the elder woman. Now she felt nothing of that anymore, though. Professor McGonagall hadn't needed the same horror forced upon her, and certainly not at her age. She had already been through enough, hadn't she? Hermione had no idea what was going on upstairs – not even the faintest at all. She hadn't heard any screaming, which she found rather odd considering that she herself had screamed loud enough to be heard through all of the house the very first times…

Everything was entirely quiet, save for the thumping of her heart hammering hard against her ribcage. Was McGonagall all right? Was she even still alive? Was she going to be taken down to the cell again, or…? Right then, she could hear rather than see the door opening. A tall defeated figure was thrown down the stairs, and the cell's heavy door fell shut nearly immediately after that. A little, barely audible, pop could be heard as it locked from the other side by magic. The figure of Minerva McGonagall reached the bottom of the stairs with a rather sickening sound, followed by a weak "Ouch". This certainly alarmed Hermione. Minerva wasn't the type to show any weakness with anyone unless really unmanageable.

She panickedly swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, before it got too big to get rid of, and she quietly uttered the elder Professor's name. "Professor McGonagall?" No reply came at that. Hermione inhaled deeply, and crawled over to where the woman had fallen, much like yesterday night when she had been taken in. She came into contact with the fabric of the elder woman's torn robes, and moved on until she could close her fingers around the other woman's wrist. She slowly made her way up to her shoulder, squeezing it. As she quietly trailed her hand further up over the elder woman's parted lips, she swallowed. That motion carried something very intimate. Hermione's finger tips moved up further over the former Deputy's cheek, feeling wetness. That was when Hermione realized that the Professor must have begun weeping in silence. "Professor, are you…hurt?" Hermione's voice caught at that very last word.

A rather weak cough indicated that Minerva was trying to find the strength to reply. "I'm fine," she whispered in the end, sounding hoarse. Both women knew it was a lie. Hermione didn't dare ask what he had done to her. She couldn't bear it. Thus she slowly felt her way up, pulling Minerva in an embrace. A wince immediately sounded, but when Hermione wanted to pull back, Minerva intuitively pulled herself nearer to her former pupil, holding on as if for dear life. She was gasping for air heavily now, and in the dimness Hermione failed to see the beads of sweat that had formed on the mentor's forehead, as she by pure force of will refrained from shouting her anguish, and pain.

"Professor, how have you landed?"

"My b-back," Minerva whispered, and she could not contain the shiver that broke through that last word anymore. She continued to slowly inhale, and exhale through the pain. Her back had already gotten worse after the four Stunners the year in which Umbridge had ruled. She could barely move now…

"Oh Professor… Is there anything I could do to make you feel better? I mean, it is my fault that…"

"Nonsense," McGonagall whispered, and a silence fell between both women. Neither of them said anything, as Hermione continued to hold the Professor against her with one hand, and carefully searched her way down the older woman's pained lower back. Minerva winced, and that made Hermione a tad more insecure, but she carefully continued massaging her mentor's lower back with one hand, rubbing comforting circles between her shoulder blades with the other.

After a while Minerva's winces died away, and her intakes of air became more normal again. She then took a somewhat deeper intake, and said, "Hermione. I have chosen for this myself… Voldemort cannot see that by hurting you, he would pain me more than by physically hurting me myself. Please let it remain that way. I imagine that you have already been through enough." Hermione's mouth opened. Upon hearing the intake of air, Minerva's forefinger intuitively reached across her lips to shush her. "No, don't tell me. I know, Hermione. He's an animal. Sometimes, I would like to believe he is more snake than human. He might not have been in appearance, but he already was so animalistic in his times at Hogwarts. He especially sought the more popular girls to run after, gathering them to him like trophies, talked nice with them until he had gotten just what he wanted from them, then turned his back at them again." Hermione didn't dare ask if she once had been one of these girls, but Minerva slowly continued, "Although I was still in school by the time he began experimenting with Darker Arts, and I was only one year older than Voldemort, Albus and I were two of the few who really saw him for what he actually was. Maybe therefore his unreasonable rage against us both in particular. I never wanted to get involved with him. I never even wanted to have anything to do with him. I was one of the girls Tom Riddle desired, but could never get. I only hope his rage is big enough still to remain for a while, so that he'll leave you alone for the time being." Again an intake of air told Minerva her companion was hoping to get something in between, but again she beat Hermione to it. "I'm already scarred by two Wizarding Wars. I'm not as valuable anymore. You shouldn't have to go through this if there's another way. There is, but unfortunately I'm old, and unsatisfying. I just hope that it will take a while until old Tom realizes that, too. If there's one thing we needn't fear, it is that he'll see the reason why I'm offering myself instead. He doesn't have an idea about the meaning of words like love, or concern. He doesn't know half what it is like to care about people, or even being cared for. He doesn't really feel any other emotion but rage, caused by his ever unsurpassable egoism."


	3. Chapter 3

"Professor?"

"Mmm," Minerva whispered, not moving an inch. She was feeling quite comfortable leaning on her former pupil, even as she had by now discontinued rubbing the older woman's pained lumbar region. It wasn't really like her to search so for human comfort or even contact, and especially not with a pupil – not even after their education in Magic. There were only few people whom she allowed to come near like that. Therefore, it had taken quite a lot from the Transfiguration Mistress to work with her former pupils while with the Order of the Phoenix. As equals.

It wasn't that she felt any superior to them in any way. She didn't use to be like that at the beginning of her career as a teacher at Hogwarts either. There were two possible reason why she might have become like that. One reason could be connected to the fact that after so many years she had taught nearly half of the Britain Wizarding community of then. Many had been lost in the wars with Grindelwald, and the first with Voldemort. Had she been close to all her former pupils, she never would have gotten over her grief. Of course she had some favorites, even though teacher generally weren't supposed to have any. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were three of those, regardless the many number of times they had worked themselves in trouble that often got far over their heads.

Maybe she had become like that through her own experience with Albus. Albus had usually been so kind, treating his pupils much like equals, never ever thinking himself more. This had earned him a lot of respect in return from his pupils, and good cooperation during his courses. He never really had to raise his voice. Some had fallen in love. Minerva had been one of these girls… No, she hadn't always been like this… She sighed, mind running. It had occasionally happened that Minerva would end up in Albus' chambers even after curfew. Sometimes they would only talk. He had often seemed the only one with whom she could have a normal, intellectual conversation. Sometimes they would play chess. Often she would lose their little matches.

Slowly but surely she had fallen in love with him, even though she knew that she couldn't, and she quite possibly would only get hurt. In fact, relationships between Professors and their pupils weren't strictly forbidden, but would get frowned upon so much the two involved never actually could pursue anything romantic. Albus wouldn't allow it. Professor Dumbledore being the all aware Professor he was, must have noticed at some point, and had once asked her rather casually in the middle of a game of a game of chess, right when the big bell towers had chimed to indicate the hour of curfew, if she knew that he couldn't pursue anything more with her than that.

She had gotten up, and left his office in tears, leaving the half finished chess game and him behind. She had cried for nights, earning her some concerned, some mocking, looks from her peers in the morning for the next couple of weeks upon arriving in the Great Hall with red, puffy eyes, bruises underneath indicating a lack of sleep. When the war with Grindelwald had happened, even though Albus had never actually told her anything about Gellert, she had known the reason why Albus hadn't been able to pursue anything romantic with her. They never had talked about it anymore. Instead their ways had parted at the end of Minerva's education, only to join again ten years later, when Albus had been in great need of a Transfiguration Professor to replace him, when he succeeded Dippet as a Headmaster. They became very close companions then, and now…

"Professor? Are you feeling any better?"

Minerva only weakly nodded against the younger woman's shoulder. After years of requiring – and receiving – the respect of her pupils like she had, she wasn't really used to being treated like this. Her age didn't cooperate as well with it anymore, even though in Wizarding terms she wasn't particularly old yet either. She sought for that what she hadn't given others now: human comfort. Hermione Granger already had been through so much. She could need the comfort as well. Logical thought told her that since both of them needed someone to lean on now, and no one else was there, it would be reasonable enough to turn to each other.

Hermione carefully raked her lithe fingers through the soft ebony wisps that had escaped the elder woman's usually neat bun. She fleetingly leaned down to place her lips upon her mentor's forehead. However then the older woman just accidentally lifted her head up, and so the younger witch's mouth landed touching the left corner of Minerva's tentatively. As Hermione quietly put some space between them in something near shock, both women fell strangely quiet for a while until suddenly their lips crashed together again full force in a passion neither women had ever felt with anyone.

Both of them impetuously fought for more, wanting to savor the touch, just wanting to feel; wanting to feel close to someone, and not alone. Finger tips began roaming across torn robes, and scarred skin until the need for air broke them apart, panting hard. No words were being spoken as both women slowly settled in each other's arms.

The exhaustion of her captivity overtook Hermione first. The steady rise and fall of Minerva's bosom underneath her head, together with the nearly inaudible sound of the intakes and exhales of air with which the elder woman breathed had something unrealistically soporific to Hermione. Once her own heart rate exhibited an even enough rhythm indicating she had fallen asleep, Minerva finally allowed herself to follow her to the land of Dreams, within which Voldemort had replaced all these Dreams by gruesome nightmares; horrible reliving of what had happened upstairs earlier… Rape, or torture, nor a combination of both had quite covered it…


	4. Chapter 4

A cold, shrill laugh sounded through the room. "So," Voldemort began. "Isn't it terrific? I have had the joy of getting to know Miss Granger a bit more… intimate already. And then our dear Professor McGonagall came to join us, and of course I couldn't deny the chance of getting to know her better, too… However it gets somewhat boring after a while. Tonight would therefore be ideal for a change, don't you agree?" He snickered once again, and waved his wand, summoning Hermione to his feet. "I personally like it tight, and since only one of you could give me that…" Hermione shivered. Voldemort's laugh sounded once again. "No, dear," he said, "I have something entirely else in mind. You see, I never really had the chance to enjoy two women at once. I thought, why not take my chance?"

The Gryffindor's eyes fell shut, and her face immediately contorted with the effort it took to fight against the magic. It didn't change much. A mad smile formed upon Voldemort's features. "You see, even though the filthy Muggle blood that's running through Miss Granger's veins, one must admit that she's got a rather nice figure…for a Muggle. It would be quite a shame not to make use of it… I have done her a favor, really. When she first came here, she never had been touched by anyone – a virgin. Anyone with some dignity would have left it that way. I have taught her how to make use of that body." He snickered. "Draco says that she was rather a know-it-all. At least now she's learned to actually use that mouth of hers better. In the beginning she wasn't really cooperative, but now…"

Another wave of his wand, and Hermione was seated on her knees at his feet, mouth wide. She couldn't shut it, nor possibly turn away. A muffled, pained scream followed by a horrible gagging sound told Minerva enough. She intuitively turned her gaze down, realizing what Voldemort must have forced her to do.

A disgustingly shrill laugh echoed through the room, sending shivers up and back down the elder woman's spine. "Would you like engage, my dear?" he questioned. Minerva McGonagall's eyes rose to meet his, ablaze with icy blue fire even though her eyes usually were green in color. Voldemort roughly pushed Hermione aside, who fell down on the carpet coughing. Minerva's jaw clenched. She couldn't do anything but obey as Voldemort quietly summoned her to him, too.

He was going to take the very last bit of these women's dignity. Up until then they could have refrained from actively participating as he mercilessly abused them, and had his way with them in every manner possible. Remaining entirely passive wouldn't be an option anymore now, though. He would make sure of that fact this time.

"You know, Mudblood," Voldemort whispered. "You will be surprised to hear, but Minerva here was certainly quite something in her days. She however thought herself better than most, and only thought the great Albus Dumbledore worthy of sharing conversation with her. I wouldn't be surprised if she and old Dumbledore secretly fucked one another, every once in a while. Fucking one of his pupils would be about the best old Albus could get. Where is he now, though? He, like you," he said, now fully directing himself at Minerva. "was too weak to really seize his chance for power. Dumbledore got scared in the end, and turned into the famous goodie-two-shoes he'll be reminded as. He then became a pathetic Mugglelover, and weak. Weak!" he yelled.

"I'll be reminded as the most powerful wizard that ever existed!" he exclaimed. "You know, you could have been great now, too – had you gotten involved with me, and seized your chance for power together with me, at least." He then directed himself at Hermione again, as if he appeared to have forgotten about her up until then. "She turned down her chance, didn't want anything to do with me." His tone was strangely soft now. He turned over his wand between his lengthy, and bony, white fingers.

"That's never changed, Tom," McGonagall spat. Fire raged in his eyes, and Hermione intuitively curled up, afraid for his reaction. Voldemort duriously slapped the elder Professor's face, and Hermione immediately shrieked in response. Minerva however didn't show any sign of weakness.

"You see," he continued. "Lord Voldemort doesn't give second chances, and-" "You are no one's forsaken Lord, Riddle!" Minerva spoke.

At once, he reacted. "Crucio!" Minerva immediately began writhing in unbearable pain. "You will obey me!" he raged, then released the spell, and watched with a smile of satisfaction as she weakly slumped at his feet.

Minerva lay painting heavily at his feet, bravely looking up to look him in the eye. "Never."

"No!" Hermione cried, as Voldemort immediately raised his wand again, very likely to repeat his earlier curse. He turned to her again. "Do you care about her?" he questioned, his voice an inhuman sizzling sound. Hermione didn't reply. With a very easy wave of his wand both women were bare. Hermione intuitively reached up to cover up her cleavage, crossing her legs to hide her most intimate area from view. Minerva didn't do the effort. She didn't fight as he with another easy wave of his wand forced her legs wide open.

"Look, Mudblood! If you so much care about her, why don't you show her that? Fuck her." Hermione slowly eyed the Professor, and swallowed in fear. She knew just what happened if you didn't listen to Lord Voldemort…


	5. Chapter 5

 

**CONTINUED!**

"Love's an emotion" is now being continued, by _Amerdrah_ (on fanfiction.net): : /s/6777146/1/Loves_an_Emotion_the_continuation

 

Summary:Minerva and Hermione ponder about a way to escape. Hermione thus has to admit what she's learned about Voldemort and the Horcruxes to Minerva, to give them a chance to succeed. Both women eventually do succeed, and escape... with Hermione thoughtfully killing Voldemort's snake in the commotion. Minerva intuitively Apparates them both to her old cottage, where she used to live with her family once upon a time. No one has survived but her, and she ended teaching and then living as well at the School. Hermione and Minerva remain there for a couple of days, until it seems as if some of Voldemort's Death Eaters have realized that fact, too. Minerva immediately fears that the cottage's guard won't be powerful enough for long, and Hermione considers to Apparate to Grimmauld Place...where both women encounter Harry and Ron... Albus wanted his Deputy to keep the School safe, but she cannot do anything there anymore, and thus her joining Harry, Ron and Hermione in their search for Horcruxes and to eventually destroy Voldemort seems logical...


End file.
